Friday, August 9, 2013

Thin Sticks Walking by Annie KerrThin sticks, walking. Tumbleweed dot ofdog runs beside them and away like alooping thread. Fading smaller they aremerging with ground bound rain of mirageshimmer, where refraction pulls theirmovements into a staccato dance from a chaotic pen. They break up like static, hitthe lip before they fall into the abyss of distance too far to see.And after their fallingthe stillest space. Endless sand.Forever sky reflecting in the mirror ofshallows. A canvas that shows thetiniest change. It waits for a new wordon an empty page.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

"Do you know what I need? To escape to the mountains, surrounded by tall trees, I will lay on the moss, and breath in the scent of mushrooms, flowers and wet soil." -- Lyrics by Les Discrets

.... and that is exactly what we didWe escaped to the mountains for four wondrous days

Wherever we wentthrough forests or up mountain slopeswe could hear watergurglingbaboons barkingsharp warningsthat we were approaching

The baboon population seems to have increased since we were there last.

Some spent time on the roofOthers foraged the grass for snacksin the hotel gardens.We watched babies doing somersaults on the lawn outside our roomI'm convinced they were showing off because we were watching them.

I was thrilled that I managed to photograph the Bee Eaters before they flew off, though this image is far better.

The Poet Dreams of the Mountain Sometimes I grow weary of the days, with all their fits and starts.I want to climb some old gray mountains, slowly, takingThe rest of my lifetime to do it, resting often, sleepingUnder the pines or, above them, on unclothed rocks.I want to see how many stars are still in the skyThat we have smothered for years now, a century at least.I want to look back at everything, forgiving it all,And peaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know.All the urgency! Not what the earth is about!How silent the trees, their poetry being of themselves only.I want to take slow steps, and think appropriate thoughts.In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall.-- Mary Oliver

"But I'll tell you what hermits realize. If you go off into a far, far forest and get very quiet, you'll come to understand that you're connected to everything'" -- Alan Watts

I take a photo of this dam every time we go. It is always so peaceful and a soothing introduction to our holiday.